Chaos Theory
by Divide et Imper
Summary: Jesse De Silva is your average pre med student, with one added bonus: he can see dead people. It's when he meets Suze Simon that things get interesting. Why is a mediator stuck on Earth as a ghost? AU
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carrol, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: Not that I'm going for pity reviews here, but this is my first fan fic…. In a loooooong time. So if any kind soul is willing to point out errors I've made so I can edit and fix, that'd be lovely. A beta'd be nice too, but I'm not THAT crazy.

**PROLOGUE**

_The flapping of a single butterfly's wing today produces a tiny change in the state of the atmosphere. Over a period of time, what the atmosphere actually does diverges from what it would have done. So, in a month's time, a tornado that would have devastated the Indonesian coast doesn't happen. Or maybe one that wasn't going to happen, does._

**_(Ian Stewart, _****Does God Play Dice? The Mathematics of Chaos****_, pg. 141)_**

Death _really_ sucks.

I just thought I'd confirm that for you, in case there were any doubts.

NOT.

But death sucks for me more than most people because I can't truly enjoy it.

Oh no, no afterlife for Susannah Simon, she's only helped about a GAZILLION ghosts pass on, no need to pay her back, no way Jose.

So I'm one very ticked off ghost. 

Father Dom can't figure it out, why I haven't moved on. I mean, I know who killed me, my family knows I loved them…

So, why?

Why am I still here?

Being a Mediator was a get-to-the-afterlife-free-card.

Or so I thought.

What's a Mediator? Oh that's simple.

A Mediator is someone who talks to ghosts, helps them resolve whatever unfinished business there is so they can move on to their next stage of existence. Heaven, hell, it doesn't really matter to me, I just make sure they get GOING.

Sure, sometimes talking doesn't do it. Then me and my Brazilian exorcism book get real well acquainted all over again.

Ahem.

Some people have it coming.

And I have anger management issues, so sue me.

But overall, I was a pretty good Mediator, so why am I stuck here, in this bizarre punishment.

It really is punishment you know. Only Father Dom can see me, and a Catholic priest is not exactly king of the social scene. God, it really sucks, being able to see, and hear everything from your old life, and being completely unable to interact. To be right beside the people you love, and be unable to touch them, to sooth them. To do anything.

So I was really starting to think that I maybe was in Hell, and you know, this is my own private purgatory, when HE came in.

Phwoar.

MAJOR hottie.

I raked my eyes up and down, trying to take in the visual buffet that was this man. I'd taken to spending most of my lonely afterlife in the only place that felt comfortable in this stupid town, my dorky room. I loved sitting in the window seat and reading, even now, when if someone walked in all they would see is a floating book. Heh. I live on the edge.

Or not, since I don't _technically_ live.

Ugh. I hate my afterlife.

Anyways, back to the moment. They guy was sinfully good looking, tall, maybe 6'3, with dark hair, and equally dark eyes, and beautiful muscles that were shown off in his glorious muscle tee, and -

Hold it.

Those gorgeous eyes I was describing a moment ago? The ones that were like two dark chocolate pools, begging me to drown in their velvet depths –

Shut up. YOU try not eating while everyone else gets to, and see how YOU handle it.

Yeah, THOSE eyes?

They were staring at me. Not through me. At me.

STARING.

At me.

STARING. AT. ME.

You'll excuse me if I was a little freaked out, for as I'm sure you know, most people don't see ghosts. In fact, the only people that have, as far as I know, are Father Dom and me. It was painful at first, but I slowly got used to the fact that Mum and Andy would walk through me from time to time if I wasn't careful, that Doc completely ignored me when I was yelling at him about his stupid girlfriend cheating on him, and that try as I might, I could NOT punch Dopey in my current state.

So for the first time since I had died, someone LOOKED at me.

And what did I do in all my maturosity?

I stuck my tongue out at him.

What?

Stop looking at me like that, I wanted to know if he could really see me, or if it was some weird fluke. And if it wasn't a fluke, and he actually COULD see me…

Well, life could be worse than sharing your room with this guy, ESPECIALLY if I was right, and he is a Mediator.

Because that whole talking to ghosts thing?

Also a touching ghosts thing.

Sometimes a spirit wouldn't move on, and I'd have to get Jackie Chan on their ass righteous.

Like I said, they had it coming.

But I doubt I'd be getting beaten up by this guy.

Oh no, I think there'd be a lot of rolling around, perhaps some sheets, definitely no clothing so I could see what had to be marvelous abs-

Oh no, he raised his eyebrow at me.

Father Dom is so going to kill me after confession.


	2. Jesse de Silva

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carrol, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: Wow, I really didn't expect to get so many reviews with the prologue, I mean, it wasn't exactly a fantastic piece of writing. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I was waiting to write the next chapter until I got all of the books, because I didn't want to mess up any points that are important to the plot. But never fear, Indigo.ca has once again come through for me, and so I present the next chapter of Chaos Theory.

**CHAPTER ONE: Jesse de Silva**

They told me there'd be palm trees.

I didn't believe them, but that's what they told me. They told me I'd be able to see them from the plane.

Oh, I know there are palm trees in California, but I thought that there wouldn't be any this far north, especially after Mrs. Ackerman told me to pack lots of sweaters. "Oh I know you probably don't wear a lot of warm clothes in Dallas, but it does get cold up here. Not New York cold, but chilly all the same." My _Madre _instantly warmed up to the woman who was to be my new land lord, packing many gifts to bring to the Ackermans as a gesture of thanks.

Her sun browned hands carefully placed hand carved figurines for Mrs. Ackerman, and special cookware designed by a local artisan into my bags. "_Hijo_, I want you to make sure these get to those lovely people in one piece." She gave me a very stern glance and continued as she helped me close the rest of my baggage. "I know you tend to have little accidents, but we really need these people to like you, so no more…incidents. _¿Comprende?" _She was using what I like to call her business voice – the one that made ranch hands cower in fear, and CEO's rush to do her bidding. And right now that voice and the full power of her gaze were being used on her eldest son.

"_Si Madre. No problemas_." I smiled my best innocent grin at her, which promptly slid off my face as she rose on tip toe to shake a finger at me.

"I pulled a lot of strings to get you into University, with your record…" She made the sound of a choking cat and I quickly cut in before she could start on about my past. Admittedly, she has good reason, I've never been the best of children to take care of, and I'm sure most of her gray hairs were put there by me.

"And I'm very thankful _Madre_. I will be the perfect house guest."

_"¿Lo prometes?"_

_"Si Madre_, I promise. Absolutely nothing will go wrong."

And I was off to a good start. There were no problems, from the drive to the airport, boarding the plane, and then take off. That was pretty good for me. The one time _mi Madre_ splurged some of our money on a trip to Disney World – let's just say there have been better flights.

* * *

I was five, and she was sitting in front of me on the plane. I thought it was nothing special, just a very eccentric old woman. What I didn't realize then, was that I was the only one who could see her.

She was a Ghost.

Not the white sheet 'BOO' type of ghost, but the real kind, the 'Sixth Sense' kind. Ghosts, at least to people like me, are exactly like regular people. I can see them, hear them, and if the occasion calls for it, touch them. But normal people, can't. And as you may have guessed, there are more normal people, than people like me. So when I walked up to the old lady and handed her a tissue saying "_Señora_, please don't cry, here is a tissue" her reaction was completely understandable.

She disappeared.

I told my mother about the ghost, but she shook her head and chuckled, patting me on the head. "_Mijo_, there are no such things as _las fantasmas_You shouldn't listen to Maria and her friend's stories. Go back to sleep." And I did. But when I woke up, the old lady was back. She glanced at my sleeping mother and put a finger to her lips, telling me to keep quiet.

"What is your name, child?" She said kindly. Her voice sounded like a slow, lazy summer afternoon, with a drawl I'd heard from some of _Madre_'s friends at work. It was her eyes, more than her voice, which made me trust her. Though they were sad, they also held warmth, like _mi abuela _when she spoke of summers long ago. She was the first ghost I ever talked to; I guess the first one I ever saw. We spent eight hours, just talking. It turns out this woman was a Mediator, someone who guided the dead to their final resting place. As best as she could, she explained the world of mediation to me, and I learned. It was a quiet, easy flight.

Until the other one showed up.

This ghost wasn't a nice, kind, southern belle. This ghost was bad. He stalked up the isle, tipping over people's glasses, breaking levers on chairs so people sleeping woke up, and causing general mayhem. When he noticed the old woman talking to me, his whole face changed. It was a look of unholy glee.

"Why Delilah, you've been holdin' out on me." He spoke with the rough tones of the people on our ranch, but unlike them, his tone was like ice. His eyes were brown, but unlike mine, they were like the oil sands my _padre_ had bought the year before. "Another medium or whatever you're called." He let out a dark chuckle. "Going to try and use him to get rid of me Delilah?" The old woman, who before had seemed so nice, and calm, looked like a statue, as if her face was carved from stone.

"You'll stay away from this boy, Everet, if you know what's good for you." Her eyes narrowed at the man as the plane began to shake. "I mean it, you may have killed me, but you touch one hair on this boy's head -" And all hell broke loose. The plane just _dropped,_ I thought I felt my stomach rise up into my throat. Then the entire plane began to shake, as if _Dios_ himself stretched out his hands to shake us.

"_¡Madre!_" My sister had woken when the plane started to shake.

"I don't think so Delilah. See, I'm quite fond of you Mediators. Especially once you're dead." The lights on the plane went out, except for the emergency lights, which flickered ominously. Everyone on the plane started to panic, children cried, and mothers began arguing furiously with the stewardesses to find out what exactly was going on. My sisters were panicking, and my mother was trying to calm them down. It still seems strange to me that no one noticed a five year old staring calmly at seemingly nothing.

Delilah suddenly seemed to – well, _glow_. I mean, all ghosts glow but she was emanating waves of light, and said in a very scary voice; "I warned you. But you wouldn't listen. I'm not going to let you hurt these people." Waves of dark energy seemed to emanate from Everet, in deep contrast to the ones around Delilah. "And this time, you can't stop me." She smiled and turned her face upwards, and started whispering words in a language I didn't know.

"**No!**" The plane shook harder, and oxygen masks dropped down from the ceiling. I turned to my sister, Maria, to see if she knew what was going on. She was crying into my _Madre_'s shoulder, and my mother was staring wide eyed at the front of the plane.

"_Nombre__ de Dios_." She breathed. That is the only time in my life I have ever seen my mother afraid. She turned to look at me, and frowned. "¡Héctor de Silva, you buckle your seatbelt _este momento_!" The plane shook harder, and I made my way carefully over to where Delilah and Everet were standing. "Jesse! JESSE!" Madre sounded upset, but I knew what I had to do. I took Delilah's hand, and watched as a dark cloud swirled over Everett's head.

"Jesse. I need you to repeat after me, alright sugar?" Delilah held onto my hand so tightly, I was sure I would have bruises. She spoke the strange words again, and I repeated them after her, and finally, red smoke surrounded Everet. I'm sure it must have looked insane, if anyone was paying attention to a small boy in the aisle. I didn't know what I was saying, just that it was making the bad man that had hurt Delilah go away. And that was suddenly very important to me.

"No! I will not be put away by this _child_!" Everet struggled against the red smoke, and plane shook harder, but Delilah kept talking, so I did too.

"I told you Everet, you had to move on. And now I'm **_making you_**." And with a final scream, Everet was sucked up into that dark cloud. The plane stopped shaking, and all the lights came back on. Everyone started cheering and clapping, some people were crying. But I kept staring at Delilah, who looked at me with wide eyes. "Why child, I think I'm going to -" And then she was gone. Just like that, she faded away.

* * *

And _Madre_? Well, let's just say we don't fly places very often.

So when I tell you I had no problems on the plane, you can understand how grateful I was. The flight was uneventful, besides an overly attentive stewardess who kept checking up on me every ten minutes. I guess I must have looked really uncomfortable, because she kept bringing me drinks and talking with me. She even gave me her phone number so 'If you ever have any questions about flying, y'all just gimmie a call, ya hear?'

Creepy, but nice.

When I arrived in the airport, I saw a cluster of people, holding up a large sign saying 'Welcome Hector!' It clearly had been created with care, and showed that someone with proficiency had used a computer program to make it.

I didn't know Photoshop had an 'instant mortification' tool.

"Oh! Mr. de Silva, we're so glad you came. How was the flight?" Mrs. Ackerman bustled over and crushed me in a hug, one I had to bend in half to reciprocate. Her green eyes twinkled up at me as she introduced me to whom I can only assume were her sons. "This is Jake, he's my oldest, Brad's with Andy grabbing your bags, and – oh. Jake, where's David?" The tall blonde man blinked slowly and looked about. He gave me the impression of someone who is continuously asleep. He pointed out a gangly red head teenager who was frowning out at the airfield, glaring seemingly at nothing. "David! David, come meet Hector!"

'David' turned and glared at me over his shoulder and stalked past us over to who I assume were Andy and Brad. "Please, call me Jesse." I smiled at the woman who was clearly distraught with her son's behavior. "There was no need to put yourself out like this, _Señora_; I was prepared to make my way into Carmel myself." Mrs. Ackerman blushed, and mumbled about it being nothing, but I could see the comment pleased her, and I resolved to try and make this woman happy. There was a certain sadness that lurked in her eyes, even when she looked at her children.

"Hey, got enough luggage here? You know, it's a felony to smuggle cattle across state borders" Andy joked, as soon as he and Brad dragged over my luggage. Really, it was only two suitcases, and I picked them up myself and followed Andy as he led us to their vehicle. I smiled as David finally spoke; interjecting a fact that you couldn't fit an entire cow into a suitcase, and how it was too heavy to pass the guidelines for flight. David seemed to know a lot of strange things for a boy his age, and received a ribbing from his older brother Brad. David must have received most of the brains and left Brad with nothing but brawn, as David shot back how Brad was still in grade 12, along with him. Jake seemed to find this interesting enough to drag him out of his stupor, but only for the few minutes it took to get us to the car.

"Oh Jesse," Mrs. Ackerman gushed, "You'll just love your room. It's got a big lovely bay window, where you can see the whole town, and a lovely window seat." Her voice seemed a little choked as she continued to describe the room to me. I noticed Jake's mouth tense a little, as if he tasted something incredibly sour. But it was David's reaction that drew my attention. He glared at the back of his mother's seat, and tears started to pool in his eyes.

"It's not fair." He muttered. When I raised an eyebrow at him in inquiry, he glared so hard at me; I was surprised not to find myself bursting into flame. I frowned and filed this away for future reference. Clearly there was something wrong with this family. On the surface they seemed happy and healthy, but the sad look never left Mrs. Ackerman's eyes, and the anger never left David's. Jake frowned at David, and Brad grumbled from his spot beside the luggage in the back.

"It's really lovely. It was a nineteenth century boarding house, but Andy had some of his carpentry friends fix it up, and it's really quite cozy." She smiled at me in the review mirror, until she caught sight of my face. "What's wrong dear?" I quickly pasted on a smile and tried not to show my discomfort.

"It's nothing _Señora_, truly, I am … uncomfortable in old buildings." I ran a hand through my hair distractedly, feeling the short black strands brush against my fingers comfortingly. Old places usually are teeming with ghosts; it looked as though my _Madre_ was right in warning me against any… incidents. It's probably why she hadn't deigned to tell me the history of my new home, for fear I would try and back out of all her hard work.

"That's funny; Suzie was the same way…" She trailed off and quickly glanced out the window, but not before I saw tears gathering in her eyes. This instantly gained me a glare from all three of her sons, and I sighed before slouching in my seat, thinking that this was the longest hour I had experienced in my life. I turned to look out the window, and smiled as I saw the sun dipping down over the ocean. It was a truly beautiful place, my new home.

We finally pulled up outside the house, and I felt my jaw drop in surprise. It really was a lovely house, with Victorian style turrets, and even a widow's walk. It was painted blue, white, and cream, probably by Mrs. Ackerman. It was also surrounded by big shady pine trees, and sprawling, flowering shrubs. Three stories high, constructed entirely from wood, and not the common glass-and-steel or terra-cotta materials so prevalent in the houses around it. It seemed to me to be the loveliest, most tasteful house in the neighbourhood.

And I didn't want to set foot in it.

_Mi Madre_ was an amazing woman. She had put up with so much from me, the broken objects, and the broken _bones _numerous run-ins with the law… Nothing serious, only a few charges of breaking and entering. Being a Mediator interfered with many aspects of my life, straining my relations with my family, and making me a social outcast at school. Many people assumed I had gotten involved with Mexican gang members, which is of course, preposterous. My family is Spanish, not Mexican, and believe me, there isn't a lot of mingling allowed by _Madre_.

Still, these incidents, though few and far between were still enough to make colleges and universities have second thoughts. My lack of extra curriculars and less than stellar record with the police managed to counter the allure of my four-point-oh GPA. But my _Madre_ was nothing if not determined, and she swore that every child of hers would go through university, and not waste the talent of the de Silvas.

As you may have noticed, she is a rather formidable woman.

She exhausted every resource, pulled every string, and managed to get me into a premed program out in California. She then found a family willing to allow me to rent a room to avoid the hassle of staying in the dorms, to avoid any 'incidents' as she called my more colourful altercations with the dearly departed.

So it was not without recognition of irony that I stepped into this house. After all the trouble we had gone to, it seems _Dios_ is determined to make Mediation a large part of my life. Which I wouldn't really mind if it were possible for me to be both a Mediator and someone with an actual life to speak of. Sadly, my university years were looking more and more as if they would be like my high school years, lonely and tedious.

Until I saw her.

The house was as beautiful inside as it was outside. All shiny maple and cheerful blues and yellows. There were baby pictures on the walls, I could clearly identify the male Ackermans, but there were also pictures of a girl, placed beside those of the boys in the living room. I spared a brief thought for those pictures – there was no girl at the airport, and no one had made mention of a sister. My gaze was then drawn to the plants scattered across the house; on wooden stands, hanging in front of the stained-glass windows, and perched on top of the newel post on the edge of the stairs. Incredibly feminine touches to what seemed an incredibly masculine family.

The evidence of four men was strewn around the house. A sleek white computer sitting on a desk covered with college books and what looked like news sides alike; a wide-screen TV incongruously tucked into a fireplace in the den, to which a new game consol was wired ostensibly for videogames, along with four surfboards which were leaned up against the wall by the door to the garage.

"Hey Max." Andy smiled as the family dog came jaunting into the room. He sniffed my hands with his big cold nose before deciding that I was acceptable to have in his house and leaping up to lick at my face. This didn't really ruffle me, as I was used to dogs from the various ranches my mother owned, and was pleased that my new home would have one. After all, if you can love a dog, you can't be a bad person.

My room was upstairs, just above the roof of the front porch. I was led up there by an enthusiastic Mrs. Ackerman, who was clearly pleased that I liked her home, and she explained the work that Andy had done on the window seat years ago. When I saw how much trouble they had gone to, to make the room feel like home to me, I instantly felt horrible for my behaviour in the car. The room was painted a muted navy blue, with cream coloured wallpaper, dotted with blue forget-me-nots all along the top of the intricate white wainscoting that lined the walls. There was a beautiful four poster bed, with a white satin canopy that was a tad feminine, but classic all the same.

I quickly commented on the beauty of the room to Mrs. Ackerman, who smiled sadly and motioned toward the large window seat Andy had made. Luckily Mrs. Ackerman was not looking at me, or she would have wondered why all the blood had left my face, and why my eyes bugged out a bit. It wasn't the stunning view, the window gave a sweeping vista that incorporated the entire peninsula, and allowed the occupant to have a view of the entire town and the ocean. I quickly glanced at Mrs. Ackerman to see if she had noticed the girl, but she said nothing, and that's when I knew.

I was sharing my room with a ghost.

The girl looked at me inquiringly, her gaze sweeping over me in what I would have called a hungry gaze. Except that's absurd as someone this beautiful could never find a freak like me interesting. She had beautiful chestnut hair that was swept up into a clip as a make-shift ponytail. Beautiful emerald eyes looked out at me, framed by dark lashes that I assume were the result of careful application of make up, because no one's eyes could possibly be that large and beautiful. She was dressed very strangely, a blue halter top and dark green miniskirt fit with the image of a popular girl, but the leather motorcycle jacket and unlaced combat boots were at odds with her feminine image.

And then she stuck her tongue out at me.

Many ghosts have done strange things to see if I was truly looking _at_ them and not _through_ them that I tamped down on my urge to laugh and settled for raising an eyebrow at her. Her look of surprise and embarrassment eased my worry that I would have to deal with a ghost so soon, and the light blush that graced her cheeks made a part of me positively gleeful.

_Madre_ is going to kill me.


	3. Oh, Susannah!

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carrol, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: I'm so pleased with all of the reviews; I'll give comments to some at the bottom, so those whom don't wish to read that kind of thing don't have to. This chapter is going to be in Suze's point of view, but I haven't really decided which one of the two I'll use for other chapters, it's really a bit of a dilemma. Do you guys like reading from Jesse's point of view, or should I stick to Suze? Drop me a line, and enjoy the chapter!

**CHAPTER TWO: Oh Susannah!**

_Oh I come from Alabama_

_With a banjo on my knee,_

_I'm a goin' ta Louisiana_

_mah true love for to see_

_It rained all night the day I left,_

_The weather it was dry_

_The sun so hot I froze to death;_

_Susannah, don't you cry..._

_Oh, Susannah,_

_Don't you cry for me_

_For I come from Alabama,_

_With my banjo on my knee._

For the first time in five years, I felt a blush come over my face.

It couldn't even have been one of those delicate oh-my-goodness-gracious-I'm-just-so-innocent blushes that popular girls like Kelly Prescott always seemed to be able to summon by will. Oh no. When I blush, it's the full monty - a horrible redness that starts at the crown of my head all the way to the vee of my tasteful tank.

And worse than that, he _liked_ it. His eyes twinkled with unholy mirth, and when I glared at him, instead of fleeing in terror from the Queen of the Night People – he grinned.

Oh boy.

Remember when I was talking about how deliciously hot this guy was? That was decimated when he smiled. The man was obviously the product of an excellent dental plan, with gleaming white teeth that stood in contrast to his beautifully tan skin.

So it was understandable how I glanced away and started fiddling with my clothes to try and make myself more presentable. I mean come on – you try keeping your mad on when you're faced with a God. Really, I was surprised he wasn't followed by throngs of swooning girls, all jostling each other for the privilege to merely LOOK at this guy. Because I'd never seen a man so hot in my life, or my afterlife, come to think of it. And I've used my recently acquired invisibility to sneak into Jake's dorm to get a look at his totally buff room mate. Phwoar.

I know, I know, bad Suze. Very bad Suze. But hey, when you can't talk to anyone or even turn the TV on for yourself, you've gotta get your kicks somewhere, right? Besides, it gives Father Dom something to complain about. Secretly, I think that Father Dom is rather amused by my exploits, far more often than he is exasperated by them. But I was almost certain that he would not be pleased to know my new room mate was a twenty-something hunk. One that was currently trying not to laugh at my obvious state of nervousness.

My mother, of course, was oblivious to our guest's new found interest in the room. She was going on and on about the history of the house, and how people had supposedly been killed, maybe in this very room. The irony was not lost on me that she was talking about this in front of a dead girl, and someone who could see and talk to the spirits of the dead. Eventually though, she ran out of steam and made her way out of the room with a quick comment that all Jesse had to do was shout, and she'd come help him unpack.

Mothers. I swear, even after death she continues to embarrass the life out of me.

As soon as I heard my mother's footsteps recede down the hallway and down the stairs I stood up and faced the new guy. I placed my hands on my hips and gave my best glare – one that had sent Dopey running when he tried to snitch on me about sneaking out, and spoke to the Latino hottie. "All right, who the hell are you?" Nervously, I began tapping one of my combat boots against the floor, trying to distract myself from drooling over this guy – time and place Suze, time and place. "And what do you think you are doing in MY room?"

He simply raised an eyebrow and replied in a silky voice "Your room?" he glanced around the admittedly masculine room and shook his head. "_Dios_, I'm afraid you are mistaken, Mrs. Ackerman is renting me this room while I go to University. I will of course, be happy to help you move on, miss -" I was too caught up listening to his voice to notice what he said at first. His voice was as liquid as the dark pools of his eyes, his English as flat and unaccented as I fancied my own was, a slight Brooklyn blurring of my t's aside. He clearly had some Spaniard in him, as his Dios and his colouring indicated, but he was as American as I was. Then it sunk in.

"WHAT?" I am ashamed to note my voice took on the same tone and pitch of a banshee, indicating my displeasure along with the sudden shaking of the dressing table's mirror. "Listen this is MY room, and I am NOT sharing it with some… some… _cowboy _decide that just cuz his rich mother -" I didn't get much further than that, because while Jesse had looked amused, and slightly frustrated with me before, he now looked – well, murderous. If I had been alive, I probably would have been babbling for his forgiveness, and as it was I took a step back before realizing that I was, well, dead and even hot stuff couldn't hurt me.

Much.

"Cowboy… _cowboy_?" He started muttering angrily in Spanish, but since I had taken French, I had no idea what he was saying. From the inflection, and his posture which was at the moment looming all six plus feet of him over little five eight me, I think it must have been some decidedly unpleasant things about my heritage. "I am _not _a cowboy. My family worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country-" he began to wag his finger in my face, "But never, _never_ as a… a _vaquero-_" and promptly ceased speaking as I grabbed his finger and began hissing at him.

"Hey, the next time you shove your finger in my face, _I'll break it_." I flung his hand away and put my hands on my hips. He seemed stunned, either by my threat or the fact that I knew I could touch him. Either way, I wanted to get my piece in before he started yelling in Spanish, because as hot as he was doing it, he was also plenty scary, like a panther coiled to pounce. And I had never made very meek prey. "Look, _amigo-_"

"Jesse." I paused in my tirade and blink at him for a moment. He must have seen a '_huh, what?_' look on my face, because he continued, and in a much more pleasant voice with a certain amount of sheepishness in it. "You called me _amigo_. I though you might like to know, I have a name. It's Jesse." He smiled, and I was instantly reminded of my earlier thoughts, about what a nice face he had. Not that I thought him pretty, not at all, especially after our little incident a moment ago. Not pretty, but dangerous, like a man that could face practically anything.

Except for me. "Fine. Whatever." I scowled at him and threw myself down on the window seat. "So _Jesse _we need to discuss you leaving my room, because I'm sure as hell not going to let you-"

"And you?"

"And me what?"

"What is your name?"

I scowled at him and blew a stray hair out of my face. My mother had apparently been on crack at the time of my birth, because there was no other explanation for my wacko name than that. "Suze." I mentally rolled over his name in my head, Jesse sounds like a very modern name, and not terribly Spanish, but then my name was after some ancient song, so who am I to talk?

"As in Susan?" He raised an inky black brow at me, and for a moment I felt very confused – as though the action was familiar, but something was wrong with it, like some minor detail was missing. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and felt a smile quirk my lips as I responded,

"Nah, Susannah, as in 'Don't you cry for me'" He chuckled at that and commented that he knew the song, and we strayed into sort of an empty silence for a moment. Not an awkward one, strangely, but a comfortable one, I let my gaze wander over him, as he began to unpack his things. I took in his short black hair that curled sexily against the back of his neck, and his tight muscle tee that was clearly worn for comfort, not style, but still showed his defined muscles to perfection and he bet to pick up clothes out of his suitcase. And if my eyes strayed to _certain_ parts of his body as he did this, it was only to silently praise the designers at Levi's, for creating such a spectacular garment.

Phwoar.

The studly image was upheld further by – I kid you not – cowboy boots. Spurs and all. On any other man, they would have looked completely ridiculous, and I would lament his sexual orientation if not for the fact that Jesse had mentioned his family worked on a ranch. So instead of coming off as slightly gay, it radiated vibes of 'salt-of-the-earth' and 'hard-working' that had my hormones all in a tizzy. It's no picnic being stuck in a sixteen year old body for all of eternity, let me tell you.

"So Susannah, why have you not passed on to your next life?" I blinked as Jesse started talking to me, pausing only to grunt as he shifted some boxes of my stuff in the closet to make way for his now empty suitcases. "Really, it would be best for both of us if I helped you to move on. I am what is called a-"

"Mediator." I sighed and put down the book I had been pretending to read while checking out Jesse's butt, and took out my hair clip to let my hair down. If I was going to have this conversation, I was going to look good doing it. The whole hair up thing has never been a good look for me, and for some ridiculous reason, I really wanted to impress Jesse. I smiled at his confused look, but it didn't have any mirth in it.

See, being a Mediator never really was my dream gig. I kinda felt like Buffy, when they did that ridiculous promo you know '_In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the ghosts, the demons and the forces of bad fashion. She is the Mediator.' _Cheesy, I know, but you would be amazed at what people were allowed to wear in northern California. I mean, the day I came, I saw this woman walking around in pink leggings and a white spandex sports bra. _And only that_. Some people should be locked up, I swear.

* * *

I first figured out I could see ghosts, and that other people couldn't, at the ripe old age of two. It's a rather long story involving a mouse, a cat, and this grey wispy ghost that had the misfortune to try and be mediated by someone who didn't speak English. I mean come on; I was two, gimmie a break. But I only figured out the whole Mediator part of the equation when my father died. I didn't understand why everyone told me I wouldn't see my father; he had gone on to a better place. Because to me, he hadn't moved on, I could still see him. My Dad was a ghost, and a constant pain in the neck, popping up whenever he felt like it, and not when I actually needed him. He explained the whole Mediator deal to me, and occasionally helped me out when I went on an errand for the undead. And I did a really good job, mostly without his help. I mean, come on, I was the only Mediator for all five Burroughs, and I thought I was pretty hot stuff, tackling the ghosts of the world on my own.

The reason I really didn't want to talk this over with Jesse is that it's kind of a sore spot, the whole Mediator job. Because I wasn't, as you can tell, the only Mediator in the world. As soon as I moved to Carmel, and started going to school, I found out my principal was one too. Father Dom, the kind old Catholic priest had mediated ghosts in the No.Cal region for forty something years, which made me feel a whole lot better on arrival, let me tell you. Until he introduced me to Heather.

Heather was this girl who went to my high school. The reason I had to transfer in the middle of the year was because there were no spots at this high school, and it was basically the only choice since Doc, Dopey, and Sleepy went there (plus I wanted to avoid an all girl school at all costs). So when I was told there was room second semester, I figured that someone's parents had decided to go on a world cruise and take their kid along with. So you can imagine my surprise that on my first day, I have to save the life of this guy Bryce from his psychotic girlfriend, the one whose place I had taken. This was further complicated by the fact that no one but Father Dom and I could see her – she was a ghost. The stupid girl had blown her head off just because Bryce had dumped her.

Not, as you can imagine the most comfortable of circumstances.

Heather, instead of being a nice, reasonable Casper, decided that I was trying to usurp her place at school, and in Bryce's life. And this was totally an overstatement; I had only let him kiss me once, and only saved his life twice. But where she really screwed up was when she got Father Dom involved. I hadn't known the guy for ages, but he was the grandfatherly type, a good looking man of about sixty with a healthy mop of snowy white hair to cap off his lean six foot frame. Plus, he was the only other Mediator I had met, and as such, held a special place in my heart, even though I hadn't known him for all that long. Heather tried attacking Bryce again after I had managed to help him avoid acquainting his head with a falling support beam. This time she tried to topple the six foot crucifix that stood in the secretary's office onto Bryce's head, something that would have killed him for sure. Father Dom, kind soul he is, pushed Bryce out of the way so that neither was fatally wounded. But Father Dom was really hurt, and had spent some quality time in the hospital.

He was quite adamant that I not attempt an exorcism- a tactic I had used before when a spirit decided to get testy and go topple buildings and such. And being the responsible teenager I was, I told him that I would wait for him to do a Catholic exorcism so that both of us could be there. I was of course, lying through my teeth.

A huge part of me wishes I had listened to the old guy. Or that my father – someone – was there to talk me out of what I had planed. You see, I decided to go down to the school and exorcise her myself, using my afore mentioned Brazilian voodoo.

It's amazing what you can learn in New York.

So I decided that I would attempt to appeal to her girly nature by dressing up a bit, hence the tank top and skirt. But I was no fool. I had been in plenty of smackdowns back in NY, and I knew that almost nothing provided as good protection as a good leather motorcycle jacket, and a good sturdy pair of combat boots. So I gathered my materials on the way home from the hospital and set out on my little quest well after midnight, when I was sure everyone was asleep. I rode down to the school on a bike I had found in the garage, and set up everything I needed for the ritual – including a picture I had very sneakily obtained from Bryce when he was doped up on meds. For a while, everything was going fine, until Heather opened her eyes and saw the big swirly cloud of exorcism that was hanging above her head.

She was a tad annoyed.

Annoyed enough that she started uprooting half the school with her psychic powers.

Oh, never fear, ye olde bad beastie was sucked up into that vortex, into the great beyond, or whatever lay in store for people after this plane. I of course, wouldn't know what's there, seeing as I'm currently doing a stint in a bad Reese Witherspoon-esque role. Because Heather had the last laugh. I may have managed to exorcise her, but she managed to pull down half the breezeway onto me as she went. I lay there, buried in the rubble until at last, even I, the great and powerful Suze, left the building.

I really did, leave the building. I 'woke up' in my bed, some time later, and wandered down stairs to see what Andy was cooking for breakfast, thinking that maybe I had dreamed the whole thing, and really would have to wait for Father Dom to attempt the exorcism. But I started to clue in, when Doc didn't return my grumbled hello, and even Dopey looked as though he'd been hit by the depression train.

Another big hint?

My mother wouldn't stop crying. And when I tried to hug her, to ask her what was wrong – I fell right through her.

I started to freak out, and noticed that the china in the cabinet began to shake, and everyone ran to the doorways thinking there might be an earthquake coming. Finally, my father materialized in the kitchen and grabbed me, removing me from the house and taking me over to the Mission to talk to Father Dom. Apparently, the weight of the rubble finally managed to crush my internal organs, and since no one walked through the breezeway until Matins (morning prayers for the religiously inclined), no one could have helped to dig me out until it was too late, and they discovered my cold dead body.

Father Dominic looked really haggard, and my dad later informed me that it had been him who had found my body – he had returned from the hospital early, eager to complete a Catholic exorcism before I did anything rash. We don't talk much about it, Father Dom and me, because it's a very painful memory for both of us. And he was really great, for the first little while after I died. He made sure I had a nice ceremony, and that many people attended. He did the usual things, tell my family how much I loved them, mailed a letter to Gina that took me hours to write (it is very, _very_ hard to move a pen when you are the newly dead), and oh, one more thing. He exorcised Heather's butt. I guess Father Dom was kinda mad over me dying, because he didn't seem to have a tiny bit of pity in his eyes as he read out the Catholic ritual for exorcism, no matter how much Heather whined and cried and begged him to give her back her old life.

* * *

So it fairly stumped us when I did not move on.

And so, I've pretty much stayed put, opting to watch over my mother, and help Father Dom out with the more active spirits that tend to pop up every now and again. We both achieved a sort of peace with my new found status, one that was disrupted with the arrival of one Hector 'Jesse' de Silva. And even though most of me was very angry with the fact that he wanted to;

a) Take over my room, and  
b) Help me "move on".

Another part of me felt as though the Earth had been tilted off its axis for a very long time, and that his arrival seemed to snap it back into place. Sitting here, talking to Jesse, even about Mediator stuff seemed to feel, like _home_. Which is of course, almost as crazy as the thought that someone could see and talk to ghosts. Suddenly, eternity seemed as if it could be a lot easier to bear if I could only listen to Jesse's voice, even when he said random things in Spanish that I had no idea what they meant. So it was without too much nervousness that I told my story to Jesse – the one about how I knew I was a Mediator. I didn't tell him about my death. I know it's silly, but I was kind of worried that if I told him, he'd figure out what was keeping me here, and suddenly, I didn't really want to leave.

"Oh, _querida_," Jesse breathed, in a very sexy way as he made his way over to sit beside me on the window seat. In the burnt orange light of the sunset, his eyes seemed to be lit with some inner fire, and they scorched me almost as hot as when he took my hand in his much larger, tanned ones. I was embarrassed to find that I had spilled some of my thoughts about watching my family without being able to touch them or anything, and tears were gathering in my eyes. I gave a very ungraceful sniff as Jesse swept his thumb over the back of my hand and smiled at me in a very sweet way. He then started to sing very softly, so softly that I had to lean closer to catch what he was singing. "_Oh, Susannah, oh don't you cry for me. For I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee…"_ I let out something that was a cross between a laugh and a sob, and could have sworn he was about to kiss me, except for one thing.

Unnoticed by both Jesse and I, my mother had opened the door, and was clearly there to call Jesse down to dinner. Instead she was leaning in the doorway, with tears streaming down her face. "Oh Jesse… that song, that's the song I sang for my Suzie-" She let out this pitiful sob and would have collapsed on the floor if Jesse had not moved so fast to catch her. He cradled her in his arms, and rocked her back and forth, muttering soothing words in Spanish as she sobbed into his shirt. "Suzie, oh my Susannah, why, why, why-". I quickly rushed over to her and tried to put my arms around her, and of course, failed, which made me cry harder.

"Oh mom, oh mom I'm so sorry…" With Jesse looking at me with sad, sorrowful eyes, and holding my wailing mother. I don't know how long we stood there, my mother and I crying, Jesse looking more and more panicked by the minute, until my mother sang the last few verses of the song into Jesse's shoulder as the sun dipped over the horizon.

_I had a dream the other night_

_When everything was still,_

_I dreamt I saw Susannah_

_Coming up a hill,_

_The Buckwheat cake was in her mouth_

_The Tear were in her eye,_

_I said I'd come to take her home,_

_Susannah don't you cry._

_Oh, Susannah,_

_Oh don't you cry for me,_

_For I come from Alabama_

_With my banjo on my knee._

AN: Whoo boy, that was a bit of an emotional one – or so I hope. On to happier thoughts – reviewer comments!

**Amattsonperdue** : Yeah, Jesse is usually a lot more non-violent, but he was just helping another Mediator get rid of an extremely malevolent spirit, and I'm sure he's learned different techniques through the years. Also, this is a universe where ghost Jesse never existed, so that whole storyline didn't exist – which I hope was made clearer with Suze's recounting of her death. Thanks for your comments though, I sometimes forget that everything makes sense in my head because I know the whole story, or so we hope P.

**creating apathy** : Ha ha, thanks so much! I was really trying to put myself in his headspace, which is very hard, seeing as I am a seventeen year old girl much more in line with Suze than a hot Latino ranch heir. As you can see, I quickly whipped myself into shape and wrote bigger chunks: paragraphs are my friend. I know, some authors clearly have a grasp of Spanish, and others make me wish I had a spork to pluck my eyeballs out with. I might make mistakes, I've only completed two years of Spanish, but I'll try very hard not to screw up too badly!

**Tuna Bites **: Oh man, your review totally made my morning, it was the first one I read when I got up, ha ha. I do have a plot, I have the entire story mapped out, with specific points I'll make sure to hit so that everything flows rather smoothly. And because it bugs me when I read an incredibly good fic and then fall into a P/S ending, I'll make this clear now- this is most DEFINITELY a J/S story. Jesse and Suze were put together in Meg's cannonverse, and I'm going to adhere to that. I hope that's what you wanted to hear, and thanks for reading!

**butt-kicking-chic/Aqeelah** : Yeah, I know there are a couple of fics where their roles are reversed, but I don't think that any author has taken this approach, so I'm hoping this goes over well.

**Avalon's Minstrel **: Hey babe! Ha ha, those were some good times, neh? Joss Whendon? Oh, I bow before the mastah. I'm going to be using you as my beta, at least for spelling mistakes until I find some pour soul to foist my fics on. Update your stories, wench!

And a huge ton of thanks to:

**The Magnificent Kiwi**

**Nights-girl**

**armedwithapen**

**emm-is-da-bomb**

**joseph-dreamer**

Alright, I'm off to bed before _I_ turn into the Queen of the Night People.


	4. Forgive Me Father, For I have Sinned

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carroll, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: I just blazed my way through all the Mediator books, and, because I am especially insane, all four 1-800-WHERE-R-U's.

Damn homie.

And I have slaved in between hours at work, to complete this new chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER THREE: Forgive Me Father, for I Have Sinned...**

I don't know how long I stood there, cradling Mrs. Ackerman in my arms.

It seemed as though many questions had been answered by the appearance of this strange girl; Susannah. The sadness that was so obvious in the family, the pictures on the wall, and the resentment of the youngest boy, David.

_Nombre de Dios_, she was so young. She looked to be around the age of sixteen, and yet for some reason, she was ripped away from her life and her family to this cursed existence. My chest tightened at the thought of the pain this girl must have suffered, but I tamped it down. I have helped many ghosts that were close to her age, and sometimes younger; so why did I feel this acute sense of loss for her? It made as little sense as the endearment that slipped out of my mouth when I saw her tears.

_Querida_.

Beloved.

Susannah seemed to not only haunt my bedroom, but my thoughts, as I made my way with Mrs. Ackerman down the stairs. She excused herself to go 'freshen up' and I made my way over to the kitchen, Max hot on my heels. The table was practically groaning with the bounty of food laid upon it. My mouth watered as I smelled the unique sent of a freshly grilled quesadilla.

I made myself comfortable sitting in between Jake and David, staring at the arrangement of salads, quesadilla, rice and various toppings that would be the envy of any restaurant back home. I swiftly made a promise to myself that I would try to enjoy it even if it didn't live up to _mi abuela_'srecipes.

It didn't live up to it. It surpassed it.

"_Dios_, Mr. Ackerman, these are amazing, where did you learn to cook them?" I managed to get that out between my first and second helpings. He made a comment about his TV show, while I marveled at the speed with which his children ate. When Mrs. Ackerman and I had first sat down, there was a pile of about fifteen quesadilla in the middle of the table. After about two minutes, Jake and Brad had inhaled about three each, while David was finishing his second, and Andy was on his third. Mrs. Ackerman and I had only eaten about half of one. Brad and Jake were eyeing the last one, and I resigned myself to going hungry for the rest of the night as Andy roughly barked that the last one would be for Mrs. Ackerman, and that Brad could get started on the dishes.

"We rotate chores between each of the kids, except when Jake is in university. Of course, we don't expect you to do them, since you'll be so busy with your course work, Jesse dear." Mrs. Ackerman smiled at me from across the table, and I couldn't help but smile back. In the strange way that most mothers have, she seemed more at peace after crying than she had before. I will never understand women as long as I live.

"Mrs. Ackerman, please, I would like to contribute in some way. Perhaps I could cook a meal, at least once a week." I looked more towards Andy as I said this, as it had been his effort to provide dinner tonight. I briefly felt a moment of nervousness – how could I stand up to this man's obvious skill – when I realized I could cook many Spanish dishes that probably did not get served very often around here. It was a challenge I was willing to take on, in order to ease the pain of this family. Perhaps what kept Susannah back from wherever she is supposed to be, was the happiness of her family. If so, I would do everything in my power to fix the situation.

For Susannah.

I felt a brief pang at the thought she would be leaving, but I shook it off. After all, it was unfair for such a beautiful person to be stuck on Earth when she deserved to be in heaven. I resolved myself to getting in contact with this other Mediator that Susannah had mentioned; Father Dominic. I was no stranger to the Catholic Church, and I admit, I felt a surge of relief knowing that I had a _Padre_ to confess to, one to whom I could confess everything. It had always been a point of strain between _Madre_ and me that I rarely went to confession. It always seemed to me that if I merely avoided confession, I would not be forced to lie to a priest, something I'm sure _Dios_ is very harsh on. I began to wonder if the lack of ghosts could be attributed to the presence of the _Padre_, for Susannah said she had lived in New York until a few weeks before her death.

The family began to split as soon as the meal was finished and I made my excuses to go back to my room. Some part of me was hoping that Susannah would be there, which is insane as I am clearly supposed to be getting her out of that room, and onto her next life. So when I entered the room to find it empty, I was annoyed to feel a pang of disappointment. After all, hadn't I asked her to leave the room? Still, the room, and the house, seemed so _empty _without her. This was insanity, I had only known her for a few short minutes, and yet I was pinning for her presence as if I had known her all my life. _Dios_, how bad would it be when she finally moved on? I sighed and shook my head as I changed out of my clothes. It had been a very long day, and I could feel the jet lag catching up with me. All I wanted to do was take my shower, and go to bed, without any… _incidents_.

Taking that shower was heaven. I hadn't realized how much my muscles had been aching from sitting in the plane all that time, but they were melting in the blissful heat of the shower. As much as I loved the feeling of hot water coursing over me, I didn't want to waste all the warm water in case someone else wanted a shower that night. So regretfully, I had to step out of the shower, and get ready for the rest of the night. I was mentally making a to-do list for tomorrow, including visiting the _Padre_ and visiting my guidance councilor at the university, when I felt a familiar shiver go down my spine. The kind of shiver I get when a ghost appea-

"Hey Jesse, I just wanted to apolo- OHMYGOD." I whirled around to come face to face with Susannah. Her mouth was open in a state of shock, and her eyes had a strange glint to them as she looked me up and down. Finally she turned an interesting shade of red before swiftly placing her hands over her eyes and turned around. "Jesse! Jeez, I am _so _sorry, I mean, I didn't know you were - and then I wanted to apologise, but you're - and I'm…" She broke off her rambling and cleared her throat. "I mean, I didn't mean to look at you while you were changing." I was so caught up in my joy at seeing her again; I had completely missed the meaning of her statement. What was she talking about?

Oh.

"Susannah, I - " I cleared my throat and hitched my towel a bit higher up on my hips, feeling a blush start to stain my cheeks. "It's nothing. Would you mind, er, facing the wall for a few moments?" I cursed myself mentally. Why hadn't I thought that she might reappear? I should have taken my clothes with me into the bathroom, and remembered that I was now sharing a room. With a girl. A very attractive, very beautiful, and yes, slightly _dead _girl.

_Nombre de Dios_, Madre would _kill_ me if she knew.

"Yes! Of course! You uh, go ahead and change. I'll just look at the wall. Yep. Nice pretty wall, with all the plaster, and uh, stuff." Susannah squeaked and spoke about a mile a minute. I wasn't sure if I had caught everything she said, and chuckled as I quickly pulled on my night clothes. Normally I would sleep in just my boxers, but I figured I had shocked Susannah enough for one day, and quickly pulled on a pair of pajama pants Maria had bought for me last Christmas. There, now there would be nothing to distract Susannah as we lay down some rules.

Such as not appearing while I'm changing.

"Alright _querida_, you may turn around now." I felt a strange grin creep over my face as she turned around, hands still over her eyes. She split her fingers to allow one eye to look about - making sure I was really dressed no doubt – before lowering her hands and looking me in the eyes. I quirked an eyebrow at her, and found myself becoming very pleased as her blush intensified for a moment as she raked her eyes over my chest, before snapping back to my face. She mustn't have seen many boys before she died, if she found me anything to look at. I don't think I am _feo _exactly, but not a _stud _as I hear my sisters call the movie stars in their magazines. After all, I had gone 19 years without a date, so obviously I wasn't the most attractive person around.

"So, Susannah, what were you saying earlier?" I leaned back against one of the posts of the bed, and crossed my arms, feeling quite at ease. I took a moment to drink in the sight of her legs as gleamed silvery white in the moonlight while she moved to sit in the window seat. She had taken that clip out of her hair again, and I found myself fascinated by the movement of her chestnut locks as they swept over her shoulder. I snapped back to reality as she let out a dejected sigh, and felt a concerned frown knit my brow. "Is there something wrong _querida_?" _Dios_, I need to stop saying that, what if she found out what it meant? Surely she would tell the Padre, and that could only end in a very uncomfortable situation for me, especially at confession.

"It's just... kind of weird. Seeing you sit where I sat, eating dinner with my family…" She shrugged uncomfortably and tugged on her leather jacket, as if she was cold. "And I just wanted to apologise, you know, for earlier with my mom and stuff. I though we got over that weepy stage, but, evidently not." She lay back on the window seat, and again afforded me a nice view of her legs as she began to swing her right leg back and forth off the edge of the seat. I forced myself to drag my eyes from her leg to her face, lest she catch me leering at her and decide to throw the dresser at me.

I am, of course, speaking from experience. Furniture is a favoured weapon of the angry dead.

There was no need, however, for my cautionary move. Susannah had her eyes riveted on the opposite wall, as if seeing something that I couldn't in my mortal state. When she began to chew her lip worriedly, I knew I had to speak, or else I wouldn't be able to control my urge to go over to her and nibble that lip myself. "_Querida_, you were not being – what was it you said – all _weepy_. Your mother obviously misses you still, and needed to express her grief. As do you." She shot me a glare that would have killed a lesser man on the spot, but I had been raised with the hellish glare of Rebecca de Silva, and nothing could compare to the sheer terror of that look.

"Don't look at me like that, Susannah, as a mediator you know that the dead have to grieve for themselves as well." She gave a snort and began fiddling with the buckles on one of her combat boots, but I could see from the brightness of her eyes that she understood what I was talking about. I wondered if this Father Dominic had not already tried to mediate Susannah. I knew firsthand that she was a willful girl, but surely, he must want her to go to heaven rather than stay and watch her family live on without her. I felt my heart begin to ache as I imagined Susannah, never changing, never aging, watching as her entire family got older, grew up, and died before her eternally youthful eyes. "Oh _querida_" I breathed, no longer caring as the endearment slipped out of my mouth. I watched as she visibly struggled to get a hold of herself, and was shocked as she sent a quirky grin in my direction.

"What does that mean?" She must have seen the obvious look of confusion on my face, because she gave a light giggle and continued, her mouth struggling to form the unfamiliar word. "Keh-reed-ah. What does it mean?" I chuckled and shook my head, moving from my perch over to the bed. As entertaining as teasing Susannah would surely be, I had to drive to both the Mission and the University tomorrow, and needed my rest. I was just slipping under the covers, when I felt a cool hand on my wrist. I looked up into Susannah's emerald gaze. "Come on, you can't just call me things in Spanish and not tell me what it means." She whined, and gave a pout that severely tempted me to kiss it away. I settled myself for sweeping my thumb over the satiny skin on the back of her hand. I gave it a quick kiss, followed by a wink, and grinned at her quick gasp.

"Goodnight, _querida_."

_- - **dream** - -_

"Jesse." I rolled away from the insistent voice, and burrowed deeper into my covers. I was in the middle of a strange dream, one that I've had before. Can one have a déjà vu for a dream? It was Susannah and I, when we first met. But… different. The room, her clothes, me, _everything _was different.

"_Look," _She said, standing up quickly and swinging her leg over the back of the chair. I noticed her strange clothing,old jeans that were ripped at the knees, a silk tee shirt, and that ever present motorcycle jacket. I was once again drawn to those irresistible green eyes, which were at the moment, narrowed at me in annoyance. _"You can do all the hanging around you want,_ amigo. _Slack away. I don't really care. But you can't do it here."_

I frowned internally at her hostility towards me, but decided to carry on politely. _"Jesse."_ I smiled as I realized this was taking a similar path to our conversation in reality. I watched as she struggled to think through my meaning, and evidently gave up and shot me a what-the-fun-are-you-talking-about look.

"_What?"_

"_You called me _amigo_. I thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse."_ She nodded, but I could almost feel her frustration at being interrupted. It brought a very lovely flush to her face, and I was surprised to find I liked the way that looked almost as much as I liked her blushing. But she wasn't finished with her tirade.

"_Right. That figures. Well, fine. Jesse, then. You can't stay here, Jesse."_ I felt a flash ofannoyance at her tenacity about me departing. After all, I had been here for over a century and a half, who does she think she is, to tell me to leave. Then I felt overwhelming confusion over my last thought. A century and a half? I had only arrived in California today, and I was only 19 years old. Susannah definitely had reason to order me out.

"_And you?" _I felt my dream-self's face stretch into a smile, and began to panic. If this was my dream, why could I not control what was happening? It almost felt as though I was remembering something, as if it were from a long time ago. But that was impossible.

"_And me, what?"_

"_What is your name?"_

Susannah shot a glare at me, and said in a biting tone_; "Look. Just tell me what you want, and get out. I'm hot sand I want to change clothes. I don't have time for-"_But Susannah couldn't change clothes. She would never change her outfit again, because she was dead. Or was she? This Susannah was different, more so than just her clothing. The colours of her person were so much more_ vivid._

"_That woman -your mother- called you Susie. Short for Susan?"_

"_Susannah, as in, 'Don't you cry for me.'"_

"_I know the song."_

"_Yeah. It was probably in the top forty the year you were born, huh?"_

"Jesse! Jesse, wake _up_! You're going to be late!" Why was this person bothering me? Couldn't they see I was talking to Susannah? I need to finish this. I need to talk to her, to ask her about her clothes, and the room. This suddenly pink, flowery, feminine room. And why, why can't I make my mouth form those questions?

"_So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?"_

"_Yeah, this is my room now. So you're going to have to clear out."_

"I'm _going to have to clear out?" _I felt irritation rising quickly within me, or rather, the dream me_. "This has been my home for a century and a half. Why do _I _have to leave it?"_

"_Because_." I could see the anger growing on her face, much as it had when we had argued in reality. Or was this realtiy, and the other… a dream. She glanced quickly at the window behind me, and then returned her eyes to mine only to glare._ "This is _my _room. I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."_ I felt the insult rile anger within me, and was shocked to find the antique mirror over the dresser shake as I stood up. I was curious to see what would happen, and I was beginning to lose the sense of separation I had felt earlier on. More and more, I felt this room, this Susannah, and this _me,_ becoming reality.

Until I felt the water.

_- - **reality** - - _

"_Nombre de Dios_!" I spluttered, swearing in Spanish and flailing amongst my bed sheets for a moment. I blinked my eyes sleepily as I took in my surroundings. I was relieved to see the familiar dark blue walls as well as all my things scattered about the room. I looked over to the side and saw Susannah glaring at me as a glass hovered in the air beside her, looking the same as I remembered her, miniskirt and all. I was about to grumble at her about the water when I looked at the clock.

The water suddenly made more sense.

I swore heavily enough in Spanish to make any ranch hand blush as I shot out of bed. I ignored Susannah's squeak as I tugged my pajamas off and threw on a nice shirt. I spent some time hopping around the room, one leg in my good jeans, while I furiously brushed my teeth, Susannah just staring at me with wide eyes the entire time. So I tried to solicit her help. "Susannah, could you find my belt please, and my shoes?" But since I had a toothbrush in my mouth, and my hands were busy zipping up my fly, what came out was more like "Usamma. Ud oo fie eye elf peas, an eye foos?"

Either Susannah is a cunning linguist, or she merely noticed what was missing from my outfit, as she quickly found a belt, and my comfortable shoes, with socks. I rinsed my mouth and quickly tugged my socks and shoes on, and was almost out the door when Susannah's voice stopped me. "Um, Jesse?"

"Yes, _querida_."

"You might want to fix your hair, and uh, shave first." I turned to look in the mirror, and groaned in frustration as I saw my reflection. Apart from the rough stubble that now covered my cheeks and jaw, my hair was sticking up as though I'd stuck my finger in an electrical outlet. Not the best first impression. I heard Susannah's laughter as I raced into the bathroom.

Today was not looking like a good day.

-

AN: Alright, alright. I know it wasn't the longest chapter, and I SWEAR I'm going to start making them at LEAST 10 pages long. But This one just didn't want to flow into the next scene, so I decided to cut it off here, and make the next one a doozy. And of course, to waste even more of your time, I give REVIEWER COMMENTS!

**Dreamcloud818: **Ha ha, Blast from the Past? I'll have to check it out. I know what you mean about the pairings, there's this absolutely brilliant fic, F L A S H L I G H T by Lolly Pop Ali, and I was addicted to reading it until I came upon a P/S scene. I read the last chapter (Bad Divi! Very bad Divi!) and it was so heartbreaking, so poignant, that I'm forcing myself to read through the entire story, even though it's breaking my heart. I definitely recommend you to read it, even if P/S isn't your thing, because it's just such a wonderful story. Anyway, enough of my shameless ranting, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chappy!

**creating apathy**: Oi woman! Long review! That's excellent, makes me feel all important-like. What help have you been? ARE YOU KIDDING? Without you and your uplifting reviews, I'd be all emo and sobbing into my mediator books in a corner. And asking questions is good, it means I'm doing my job in making you think, tee hee. 1) mebe. 2) mebe 3) mebe. Was that significantly vague? Yeah? Okays, moving on.

I admit it. You caught me.

I'm NOT from the US. I was surprised you guessed though, and on such a little detail. Clever, clever you. Maybe when I'm old and grey, I'll go back and edit that in the chapter, but I'll leave it as is for now. Ha ha, well, you got another chapter anyway, because I love you guys so much (and I needed a break from work). Thanks for reading babe, and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Amattsonperdue: **I… erm… that is…SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! throws a lovely rug over the plot holes. Ha, actually, after reading your comment, I went back and looked through the books, and realised you're right. Heh heh. Whoops. However, I don't think that either of the brothers Ackerman would know that it is Suze. Even as your comments sent my into an apocalyptic fit, the plot bunnies began hopping around in my brain. And instead of trying to invent a way to retcon the ability to notice spooks out of the boys, I've found a way to work it into my plot line, and all thanks to you! So here's a very big THANK YOU, because it really is going to make some comic moments in future chapters, that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't called me on my stuff. So yes. You are right. You are always right.

And also, a huge ball of thanks to: **Nights-girl,** **Lessien-Elensar,** and** emm-is-da-bomb.**

Goodnight!

Divi


	5. Enter Elizabeth

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carroll, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: Bonjour mes amis! Since the last chapter, I have been camping avec mon famille, crunking it up at the cottage with my friends, enduring the sun-drunk job of being a lifeguard, and finally, dreadfully, registering for school. So I apologise for the lack of update, but I really was incredibly busy. This baby's around 6 pages, and includes a handy-dandy fully loaded batteries included OC. For your reading pleasure, because really, what is fanfic without Mary Sue?

Bon lisez mes chères!

**CHAPTER FOUR: Enter Elizabeth**

The Junipero Serra Catholic Academy was certainly a magnificent building to behold. The red dome that covered the church looked particularly imposing in the early morning light, the rising sun glinting off of its stained glass windows, and impressive architecture. The school sat silent, an atmosphere alien to a place accustomed to children running about for most of the year. I could feel the peace and tranquility of this land settle down into my bones, and I smiled at the near familiarity of it. My brown suede jacket wasn't doing much to protect me from the chill of the morning mist, which hung heavily about all of Carmel. Susannah had laughed at me when I walked out the door at first, ready to take a leisurely walk down to the mission, only to leap back inside cursing at the frigid morning temperatures. Mrs. Ackerman hadn't been kidding when she had warned me to keep my warm clothing. _Dios_, if it is this cold every morning, I may have to refrain from opening those lovely bay windows, as I had longed to do last night when the room was so stiflingly warm.

Susannah told me that Father Dominic would likely be near the breezeway, tending to his pigeons. A small part of me was hopping that Susannah would deign to accompany me so that we could talk to the Padre about her … condition. When I had mentioned this to her, she seemed to suddenly pale – as much as someone without blood _can_ pale – and quickly stammered a reason for not accompanying me. I would have felt vaguely rejected had I not noticed the stark look of fear in her eyes, quickly masked. I don't know why, but the thought of Susannah having to fear anything bothered me like nothing else, and I had to fight the suddenly strong urge to wrap my arms around her and protect her from the world. Absurd, as Susannah is dead and clearly in no danger, other than moving on to where she is supposed to be. This line of thinking of course leads to Susannah leaving, and as I have found of late, it is a thought I abhor in the extreme.

These thoughts caused a frown to crease my brow as I quickly made my way across the courtyard, making my way through the first open door I came across. I wasn't really thinking where I was going, and if I had, I probably would have realised that I was unlikely to find the man in a grave yard, but my attention was elsewhere. I was wondering over the sensations Susannah aroused in me – I had only met her a day ago, and yet, I felt as though I had known her for eternity. It was one of the many strange thoughts that had crossed my mind since I moved to Carmel, things such as talking to Susannah, the way places seemed familiar - yet not - and the dream, the dream that felt more like reality every time I thought about it. I resolved myself to speaking with the Padre about these dreams; perhaps they are common to mediators, although I had never experienced one before. I turned down a narrow pathway in the graveyard, mist curling about my ankles and clinging to the cuffs of my 505's. And still, I wandered, lost in my own thoughts, until my feet finally came to a stop. I was so surprised by my body's seeming will of its own, that at first I didn't register what I was standing in front of.

_Here Lies Susannah "Suze" Simon_

_July 7th 1986 – February 5th 2002_

_Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend_

Her grave.

The sight hit me like a punch in the gut, and I wasn't quite prepared for the rush of absolute despair that raced through my blood. And more confusing then my feeling over Susannah's death, was the complete and absolute knowledge deep in my soul that this was wrong. Completely and totally wrong. I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the tombstone, just reading that line over and over again.

"_Here lies…"_

The words were positively reverberating around in my skull, twisting around in my head. _But she doesn't rest here, does she? _I felt the beginnings of a truly crushing headache coming on, and rubbed a hand over my tired eyes. _She isn't here. Not really. She's with me._ The pain increased and my vision began to blur.

"_Here lies…"_

But this time it was different. The tombstone read something completely different, and the pain in my head went from painful to agonizing in a split second.

"_Here lies…"_

"_Nombre de Dios_…" I breathed, and stared wide eyed at the tombstone. I briefly wondered if I had not actually awoken at all, that this was merely another part of my strange dream. Even as pain raged in my skull, the words I now saw became starkly clear, the gravestone becoming incredibly sharp and in focus.

_Here Lies Hector "Jesse" De Silva_

_1830 – 1850_

_Beloved Brother, Son, and Friend_

"Hey, are you ok?"

I ignored the voice, choosing to stare at the stone. The gravestone with my name on it. _Dios, you're becoming paranoid._ I thought to myself. More than likely, this was a member of my family, although _Madre_ hadn't mentioned anything about it when I first spoke of Carmel. And the pounding pressure in my head…

"Hello?"

A curtain of blue swung into my vision, and I blinked confusedly for a few moments. When a pair of hazel eyes, set into a pale, freckled face came into view, I realised someone had been trying to get my attention for a while. I felt a cool hand rest on my cheek, and looked over to a girl who was kneeling beside me, a worried frown creasing her brow.

"Wow, you look like you saw a ghost." I let out a rough bark of laughter at the irony of her statement, and wondered how I had ended up on the ground. The sun had fully risen, and most of the mist was gone from the graveyard, giving it a quiet, serene look. How long had I been in this spot, staring at that grave? I studied the girl beside me, and was surprised to find she was around my age. She had dyed her hair a royal blue, and it hung in sleek straight lines to well past her elbows, a style that would have had my sister Maria in fits of envy. Her skin was pale, and without the golden undertone that Susannah's skin held, with plenty of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and under her almond shaped eyes. Unlike my sister and her friends, the girl was wearing no makeup, which would explain the almost too white ivory tone of her skin. She was, in all, the strangest looking girl I had ever seen in my life. Considering I see dead people, this was a bold statement indeed.

"Did you know her? This-" the girl squinted at the grave marker, "Susannah? Huh. What an odd name." the girl shot a timid smile in my direction and stood quickly, offering me a hand up. "'Course, I can't talk. Name's Elizabeth, but, call me Buffy, everyone does." I accepted her hand, and she helped pull me to my feet. I was surprised to find that she was tall, only about a head shorter than me. I returned her introduction with my own name, and dodged the question about Susannah. I was startled to find that my headache had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and wondered at the source of it. A quick glance at the gravestone reaffirmed what I had supposed – it once again read Susannah's name, not my own. I mentally filed the information I had seen away for later – perhaps it was a clue as to what happened to Susannah, and how she would move on. Speaking of, I had wasted too much time in this graveyard, I needed to speak to Father Dominic about Susannah, and then go receive my papers from the university.

"Elizabeth," I questioned, ignoring her pleas for me to use her nickname, "Would you know where I could find a priest? His name is Father Dominic." I wonder what the man will be like. Having grown up thinking I was the only mediator, it was startling, to say the least, to find that there were so many people like me. I was also curious to learn about Susannah's mentor. When she had spoken of him to me, warmth infused her tone, and a glint of gentleness came to her eye which was usually reserved for her family. Elizabeth nodded and pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she answered my question.

"Yeah, sure. Actually, I was just going to talk to him myself, funny huh?" She beamed a quick smile at me and grabbed my hand, dragging me out the door I had come through, and across the courtyard. I felt a blush instantly come to my cheeks. Being known as 'the creepy kid' at school hadn't exactly made me the most popular guy during my high school years. So for the most part, the only girls I had any occasion to touch were my family, and most recently, Susannah. But holding Elizabeth's tiny hand in mine was a completely different experience. Her cold fingers were drawing the warmth out of my own larger ones, and I felt a tingle of electricity shoot from her fingers all the way down to my toes. A quick glance at her face showed that she hadn't felt anything unusual, and made me blush all the more. _Dios_, I am acting like a twelve year old, and in front of a girl I just met. This is as bad as Susannah._ No, you never felt this warm with Susannah. Because she's dead_. I shook my head and tried to steer myself away from such thoughts.

"Do you live near here?" I questioned. Realising that it was a rather intrusive question to ask someone you just met, I quickly stammered out an explanation. "I, ah, you seem to know your way around this building. Not that I need to know where you live or anything, I was just curious, and I, ah, apologise for being inappropriate-" I cut myself off as she broke up into laughter, and smiled a bit sheepishly. "I was babbling, wasn't I? I tend to do that when I'm nervous."

"Yeah, a bit of babble was going on. But no worries, it was – cute." She winked playfully at me, and laughed as a blush stained my cheeks once again. "Actually, I live here, in the rectory. And before you ask, no, I'm not a nun." I let out a chuckle of my own as she mock shivered to show her disgust. "My uncle's fairly important here, and I needed a place to stay while going to uni. I've been playing around this place since I was a little kid, although, I have to say, I've never run into someone as interesting as you before." This time I was interested to note that she had a blush staining her cheeks, as she cleared her throat and tugged on my hand to lead me down a corridor to a rather imposing looking office.

"Here's your stop, just a moment." Elizabeth slid her hand out from my grip to knock on the door, and I was surprised to find that I longed for the tiny warmth that our combined hands had generated. I felt a rush of confusion go through me, as I remembered my reason for coming here – Susannah. After nineteen years of nothingness in my social life, I was suddenly faced with two women that didn't seem to be repulsed by my freakishness. Elizabeth smiled as the door cracked open to reveal a handsome man of around seventy, with a healthy head of snowy white hair, and kind blue eyes. The man wore the robes of a priest, and I wondered if he knew who the mysterious Father Dominicwas, and if I could speak to him so early in the morning. "Uncle, I'd like you to meet Jesse, he said he wanted to speak to a priest, and I figured I could hook him up." Her smile turned impish and she gave me a wink as she continued. "I expect a full report of his confessions; life has been so boring the past few weeks."

"Elizabeth," The Padre mock frowned at the girl, the responding twinkle in his eye alerting me to the fact that he wasn't serious. "You should respect the young man's privacy. Your incessant nosiness will get you in trouble one day. Curiosity killed the cat, my dear." Elizabeth let out a very un lady-like snort and rolled her eyes at me. I gave her a small smile in return, and watched the banter play out between two people that obviously cared for each other deeply.

"Yeah, but satisfaction brought it back." She playfully stuck her tongue out at the priest before turning to me. "Ignore him. He's just a crazy old man. I have no dubious intentions towards you." She quickly gave me a once over, from head to toe, a blush lighting her cheeks before she muttered under her breath "Much." I pretended not to have heard her, only letting a pleased smirk cross my face. Life was definitely looking up in Carmel. "Anyways, Jesse, I'd like you to meet my uncle, otherwise known as Father Dominic." My surprise must have shown on my face, as she shot me a confused glance before smiling at the Padre once more. "Well, I gotta go grab my books from the library, or Sister Ernestine will have my head, the fussy old bat. See you later Jesse!" She gave me a quick salute, and then started off at a brisk jog down the corridor, her blue hair swishing out of sight within a few moments.

"I wish she would stop antagonizing Sister Ernestine, when she's in a mood the woman could try a saint's patience." Father Dominic sent me an amused smile that I couldn't help but return, and extended a hand. "As Elizabeth said, I'm Father Dominic. Do excuse her; she can be a little… exuberant. I fear life in the rectory is going to be very trying for her, although I expect it will do wonders for her piety." The Padre smiled as if at a private joke, and I shook his proffered hand. "Now my son, what can I help you with? I have to say, I have never had a caller so early in the morning, I do hope it isn't something dire." He stepped back to allow me to pass by him and enter the office.

"Actually, _Padre_," I slipped into the Spanish term, feeling more comfortable with that than using his full name, "I came to speak with you about one of your former students. Susannah Simon?" The Padre's eyes changed from slightly amused to sad and slightly tired looking. It was so strange to see the shift from a confidant uncle with his niece, to an old man.

"Ah, yes. Susannah. She is, _was,_ a very special girl. Very special." He let out a heavy sigh and moved to a comfortable old chair behind the main desk in the office. "She was only at this school a short while, after her mother had remarried, before she was-" He cut himself short, and took a drink of water from the glass sitting at the corner of his desk before continuing. "I knew Mrs. Simon. Were you particularly close?" He raised his eyes to mine; the icy blue orbs seemed hauntingly sharp in the morning light. I shifted uncomfortably, and searched for a way to say my piece. How does one tell a priest that they have a sixteen year old ghost for a roommate?

"Ah, I didn't know her when she was alive," I started carefully, noticing the confusion in his eyes. Having thought of no other way to broach the subject, I decided that a direct answer was really the only course. "However, she seems very nice." Seeing him blink at me in confusion, I explained further. "She's haunting my bedroom."

"Oh geez, he's a priest for god's sake Jesse, couldn't you have reworded that one a little?" Susannah's annoyed voice came from behind me, and I turned quickly to see her perched rather delicately on the windowsill. It was a bit unnerving to see the sun lighting up her chestnut hair, and yet see no shadow on the ground. If I had been surprised at her appearance, the Padre looked a mixture of relieved and annoyed.

"Susannah, really, you know better than to materialize in here unannounced." He gave her a stern glare and continued in a more fatherly tone of voice. "And why did you not mention that your new roommate was a _man_?" I flinched mentally at the Padre's aggravated tone. I had known, of course, that he would not be pleased. Because of course, being a Mediator, ghosts are as real to me as any other girl. And how could a Catholic priest possibly be happy with our arrangement? Not that Susannah would ever consider anything… _untoward_. Despite Elizabeth's advances, which I knew were in jest, I was not at the top of anyone's list.

"I didn't think he'd come to find you so soon." Susannah sent me a wounded look, which had me confused. Had I not told her I wished to speak with Father Dominic? "I didn't think he wanted to get rid of me that badly." I blinked and fought the urge to demand what she meant. When had I ever mentioned _getting rid of her_? I opened my mouth to speak, but was pre-empted by the Padre.

"Susannah, do not be overly dramatic." He gave her a stern glance that had significantly more tenderness than the last one, before turning to me. "Jesse, I suppose then, that you can both see and hear Susannah?" When I voiced an affirmative, he wiped a hand over his face and gave me a searching look. "Do you know what a Mediator is?" I told him a highly abbreviated version of my first encounter with a spirit, and what I now knew was a fellow Mediator. Both the Padre and Susannah looked very surprised, but while Susannah made several comments as to the idiocy of some spirits, the Father merely commented on the apparent fact that Mediators can also become spirits.

"Someone's coming." Susannah's eyes once again seemed to phase out of the current conversation, and looked seemingly through me to the door. "Hmmm, isn't she a little young for you, Father D?" Susannah snarked from her position on the bookcase as a confidant knock sounded on the door. After the Padre's admonishment to Susannah for her inappropriate comments, he called for the person to enter. Elizabeth's shockingly coloured head popped around the corner and gave me a grin as she turned to the Padre. I was surprised to note that unlike her uncle, she was clearly not a Mediator – Susannah had stood up and walked over to the door to get a better look at the intruder, and was currently making approving comments on her clothing choices. I felt distinctly uncomfortable seeing the two of them together, and felt a sting of annoyance for feeling uncomfortable.

"Sister Ernestine's got her wimple in a knot – your pigeons are redecorating the floor of the breezeway again. She's threatening to call the Monsignor if you don't, and I repeat, 'relocate these godforsaken holy terrors this instant'" the Padre grimaced and Elizabeth and Susannah giggled at the same time. "I just wanted to give you a heads up before I pop over to the university. Sides, I gotta try out my new wheels, what's the good of having a hot car if you don't get to cruise around in it?" Seeing that the Padre was going to be busy for the next while, and that I couldn't discuss Susannah's afterlife whilst she was in the room, I decided to save the rest of my conversation for another day.

"Padre, I would like to come back another day to er, finish our discussion." I ignored Susannah's raised eyebrow and her silent inquiry as I turned to Elizabeth. "If it's not too much trouble, could you drive me to the university? I have to pick up some papers from the student office, and I'd rather get that done before classes start." Susannah's eyebrow couldn't possibly inch any higher, but the disgruntled slant of her mouth informed me that she was not pleased with the way this conversation was moving. Obviously, I couldn't speak to her without Elizabeth thinking I was insane, and I'd rather keep the first friend I had found in Carmel, and delay the usual branding of myself as a freak. "Father Dominic, if it is alright with you, I will return on Monday with David and Brad Ackerman, on their way into school."

"Of course Jesse, we have many things to discuss." The Padre glanced pointedly at Susannah, who crossed her arms and glowered back, clearly understanding that since she would be the topic of conversation, she was not welcome. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and shimmered out of existence, most likely returning to my room. "Elizabeth, thank you for warning me about my birds, and do try to remember that speed limits exist for a reason." He shook his head at her grin and rose from his chair. "See you both tomorrow." I stood and moved out into the hallway with Elizabeth, who looked up at me with a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

"So, how was the spiritual cleansing?" she quipped and shoved her hands into the pockets of a comfortable looking black coat. Her blue hair spilled past the high mandarin collar of her shirt and seemed in stark contrast to the grey and black scheme of her outfit. It was strange that such a cheerful person would dress in such depressing colours, especially considering that almost everyone I had seen in Carmel so far dressed in bright colours and khaki. "Exorcise your spiritual demons and whatnot?"

"Confession is good for the soul, but I imagine you know that, your uncle being a Father of a Catholic church." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in distaste and shrugged, leading me over to a red Pontiac Sunfire. I let out an appreciative whistle and ran my hand over the glossy hood. "Eric would be a pile of drool right now, my brother's love for women is only exceeded by his love of speed." Elizabeth popped open the locks and I slid easily into the passenger seat, looking at the posh interior with no small amount of amazement. _How does a university student who needs to live in a rectory end up with a car like this?_ It seemed that no one in Carmel was quite what they appeared, and everyone had far more secrets than was healthy.

"You'll have to introduce me to this brother of yours, if he looks anything like you; he's my kind of man." She gave me another wink, and snapped her seatbelt into place securely, with a quick comment at me to do the same. "This is my baby; I saved up for years to afford a car, especially one this good. You drive?" when I mentioned having my licence but lacking a vehicle of my own, she shook her head at me as she pulled out of the lot behind the church. "Man, you'll get no where in Carmel without wheels. They are sorely in need of a public transit system. If our schedules line up, I could see my way to giving you rides, if you'd like." Her cheeks turned pink again, and I felt a pang of regret that I could turn down her offer.

"The family I'm staying with, the Ackermans, they have arranged for me to use the family car, once David and Bradley are at school." We spent the drive to the university getting better acquainted, I told her of the family I was staying with (leaving out my decidedly dead roommate) and she in turn regaled me with several amusing stories of her visits to the rectory, and her antagonistic relationship with the novices and clerics in the church. The Padre was apparently right in his admonishment for her to obey the speed limit – Elizabeth was tearing down roads at a speed which would have had any normal person quaking in terror. When I mentioned this to her, she tipped her head back and laughed, instilling in me a fervent wish that she would keep her eyes on the road. My brother liked to go fast, not commit suicide as it seemed Elizabeth was intent on doing. At least if I died, I had the chance to be a ghost with Susannah. Strangely, that thought didn't seem too unsavoury, something I didn't care about at the moment, seeing as my life was flashing before my eyes.

"Oh please. Who follows the speed limit anyways?" I noticed she did slow down, even if it was only a fraction. I felt relieved, and at the same time, a little disappointed. I could see why she loved this car, if you could go that fast; it almost seemed as if you were flying. "Those signs are more like…guidelines, than actual rules." Now that we were going at speeds visible to the human eye, I found myself relaxing in her presence. By the time we finally pulled into the university parking lot, I found myself reluctant to get out of the car. So often over the course of my life, I have had to keep myself relatively alone, so that my altercations with ghosts wouldn't accidentally involve some innocent person. But the relatively low level of spirits in Carmel has allowed me to think that for one, I wouldn't have to be alone, or the freak

. My thoughts were interrupted by the purr of a very expensive engine. I turned and saw a sleek black Jaguar slide into the space beside us, and a tall man stepped out of the car. He had a blue silk shirt, black slacks, and white chinos as his ensemble, and looked like a very well put together guy. "Hey, Buffy." He spoke in a soft voice, one I had to struggle to hear over the still rumbling engine of Elizabeth's car, before she turned the ignition off. She slid quickly and gracefully out of her car, and around to my door before I had my seatbelt undone.

"Hey Tad." I was pleased to note that although she seemed to preen a bit in his presence - a quick fix of her hair, and tugging on her clothes – her tone was only casually interested. When I finally managed to exit the car, she quickly grabbed my hand and flashed a very fake smile to this 'Tad'. "I'd like you to meet Jesse, I'm sure you haven't met." I said a quick hello and shook his hand while trying to mask my confusion. Elizabeth was acting fairly clingy, was Tad an ex boyfriend of some sort?

"Nice to meet you De Silva." My theory of the ex boyfriend seemed to gain more validity as Tad's voice lost most its softness and sounded slightly put out. "Listen, Buffy, a bunch of us are going out tonight, we were wondering if you'd like to come with." I felt him size me up, and unintentionally I stood straighter and returned his look with one of my own. "Of course, your _friend_ is invited. You know my number." He gave her a small wave and sauntered over to one of the buildings on the small campus.

"Ugh. What a creep." Elizabeth mock shuddered and gave my hand a squeeze. "Sorry for pulling a Klingon like that, but that guy just gives me the willies. Him and his dad. My friend Debbie went out with him for a while, and then she suddenly disappeared." She tugged on my hand and started walking to a small building, probably where admissions was most likely located. She gave me a quick commentary of most of the people we passed, some who said hello to her, and some she avoided like they had the plague.

"Do you want to go to his party?" I asked, tamping down the urge to add _'with me?'_. I figured I'd been encroaching on her goodwill for a long enough time, and had to watch that I didn't drift from '_interested_' to '_stalker_'. It would make conversations with both Susannah and the Padre a little more awkward.

"I dunno." She sighed and made a strange face as she directed me over to the student services area. We sat down in a couple of relatively comfy chairs while we waited for the secretary to retrieve my files and information. "I mean, I really should, these aren't the kind of people you want to have on your bad side, and I want to start my first year off right, you know?" She tossed me a crooked smile and added, "Plus, Jake Ackerman's going to be there, so I suppose it wouldn't be a total loss if you managed to show up."

"I suppose if it's all right with Jake, I could make an appearance. But you'd owe me." I let a teasing smile go to my lips, but was surprised at myself. Was I flirting? If she knew, Maria would never let me hear the end of it. "I'll warn you now, I'm not a very good dancer, and I'm not terribly good at conversation. Really, I'm quite boring." Definitely flirting. _Dios_ help me; I'm turning into my brother. Next, I'll be driving a car like Elizabeth, without regards to the laws of inertia, never mind the laws of the state.

"Hmmm. Somehow I doubt that." She shot me a quick grin as the secretary came with my papers. I began to sort through what was needed for my courses, and what had to return to the office as Elizabeth began folding some of the brochures into tiny origami shapes. "Sides, I need you to help fend off guys like Brad and Tad, not to mention give everyone something interesting to talk about for a change. I'm so tired of hearing about Paul and Kelly, and the relationship that isn't. It's enough to drive a woman to drink."

"I'm afraid you're still out of luck, I don't really do that either." Still, for all the banter, I was starting to look forward to this party. I had never been invited to one, not really being popular enough to merit an invitation, but I remembered sneaking downstairs while Eric or Maria would have one, and wishing I could join them. "However, I am curious about all these people you keep referring to; I thought you hadn't stayed in town that long."

"I've been here this summer, and believe me, that's long enough. These people are like those kids on the OC, its just one endless soap opera after another. I'm glad I was spared the misery of high school." She quickly cut herself off and became very absorbed in folding the shapes of the next animal. I briefly toyed with asking her to explain, but I decided that later would be more appropriate. We sat in a slightly awkward silence as I finished up my business with the university and received my class schedule. Elizabeth swept her rather impressive menagerie of origami figures into her book bag, and ignored the glare of the secretary who hastened to replace the brochures that Elizabeth had mangled. "Well, Jesse ole' chum, what say you to grabbing some lunch in the cafeteria? I could eat a horse." We both laughed as my stomach decided to rumble in agreement. I had left so early, I missed the Ackerman's breakfast, and my body had obviously wanted more than the pitiful amount of food I ate last night.

"Alright, but only if you let me buy." I waved away her protests, and extended a hand to help her get out of her chair. "I insist. I don't expect you to be a taxi service, and think of it as an apology for my lack of dancing and drinking." I gave her the same grin that melted my sisters whenever I particularly wanted to get away with something, and was satisfied to note that Elizabeth was starting to agree. "You can even drive me back home, if it makes you feel better."

"Oh thank you, your majesty, for gracing me with your presence." She rolled her eyes at me and took my hand, rising out of her chair and then stretching. "I'm telling you now, I don't eat light. I'm strictly a burgers and fries kind of gal."

We spent a pleasurable lunch talking about our respective goals for university; I was surprised to note that she wanted to become a paramedic, and that at least for this year, we'd have most of the same classes together. I told her my own reasons for being a doctor, and she imparted amusing anecdotes of teaching children how to swim from her days at a resort in Carmel called Pebble Beach.

On the way home, I was relieved to find that Elizabeth chose to drive close to the speed limit, allowing me to get a long slow look at what is now my home. The rolling green hills melted into the blue glass of the Pacific Ocean, so very different from the flat sandy plains back home. But strangely, Carmel feels more comfortable and right than Dallas ever had. As Elizabeth pulled into the Ackerman's driveway, I thought I saw a flash of brown up in the bay window, reminding me of Susannah. Susannah was also one of the reasons that Carmel felt so much like home, even if I hadn't known her for that long a time. I sighed and got out of the car, papers safely in hand when Elizabeth's voice stopped me.

"See you at seven, don't be late, Jesse." Elizabeth shot me a mock glare, and passed me a slip of paper with a number on it. "Call me if you have any issues, or if you know, you want to talk. Or something." She dropped me one of her now infamous winks, and pulled slowly out of the drive way. "Later, Holmes!" She called out the window, and sped off down the road. I grinned and shook my head as I headed inside.

"Mrs. Ackerman? Mr. Ackerman?" I called out to a seemingly empty house, and was greeted by the ever exuberant Max. "_Hola_, _muchacho_." I placed my jacket on the coat rack, and headed up the stairs. I slouched into my room and kicked off my shoes, falling onto my bed with a heavy sigh. The headache that had plagued me in the morning suddenly returned, albeit not as strong as it had been. "Nombre de Dios, I'm tired. Why did I tell Elizabeth I'd go with her?" I rolled over onto my back and nearly yelped in surprise as I found two angry green orbs over mine.

"Jesse."

AN: Oh dear. Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight. You know… if Suze… slept. Well, I know it's not ten pages, but I think this chapter's a doozy. Father Dom is once again in the picture, and we're creeping towards a mini plot arc whilst giving some info on the whole Jesse situation. I hope you guys are pleased with this chapter; it feels a bit rushed to me since it was written in bits and pieces between me going to work and wasting the last week of my summer. I've got over a thousand and eighty hits! Woot woot. And twenty seven reviews. I'm really pleased that so many of you have enjoyed my story so far, and I hope you guys stick around to see how it turns out!

**Joseph-dreamer:** I think you have your answer in this chapter – it's going to get very interesting for our beloved Jesse next chapter ;).

**The Salad Is Dressing:** HA! I know. I try to have really good grammar; it really bugs me when people just ignore the rules of the English language. And the spelling is only ok as I had a constant battle with my word processor over the past few years over my s to z corrections, or my frequent use of 'colour' instead of 'color'. And as for well written and believable, you flatter me, you lovely, lovely person. Please, do go on D.

**Amattsonperdue:** AHA! Well, as much of an ego boost as THAT was, I'm sure you'll find loads wrong with this chapter. I mean, you're like a free beta. How much better can life get? I was really surprised that she figured it out from that, I figured my spelling would have given me away much sooner.

**Lessien-Elensar:** The conversation that was in italics is directly from the books, and that was HELLISH to type out, but with Jesse's thoughts in mind, let me tell you. Nah, no worries, I am exceptionally uncreative, and I'm just hoping you guys wont see it ;).

Muchos hugs and kisses to these lovely folks; **LunaTears,** **Kaye**, **kat,** **x-Emo Princess-x,** and **emm-is-da-bomb.** Keep reading folks, and I'll keep writing!

Love;  
Divi


	6. Heav'n has no rage

Disclaimer: It's all Meg Cabot's (or Jenny Carroll, YMMV) and as much as I and many others WISH we owned Jesse and Paul – I don't.

AN: I'm so sorry this is so short, but I've had a whole bunch of stuff going on, with school, and life. My mom and I were in a car accident today on my way to work, and it really has me shaken up. I've also hit a bit of a block, but pumpkin pie just encouraged me to write out this short little bit. It's moving the plot along, and it brings in someone who I'm sure you've all been missing…

ETA: I'm a dumbass. Thanks **aqueela**!

**CHAPTER FIVE: Heav'n has no rage...**

"Susannah!"

Jesse's brown eyes were opened wide, and I was pleased to note the sound of panic in his voice mixed with an overly cheerful tone. I felt my own eyes narrow in response. People only sound like that when they're trying to hide something. "Elizabeth, huh." I allowed my body to sort of hover over Jesse's, a tactic I found especially amusing if Father Dom slept in too late. I crossed my arms and felt my face settle into an expression of displeasure. Elizabeth was all right, if a little unobservant. I'd looked in on her from time to time over the summer, when Father D was getting particularly ornery about her safety. And I thought that if I had met her when I was, you know, alive, we would have gotten along pretty well. However, now that she was showing an interest in Jesse, I found myself wishing that she was significantly uglier. "Where are you going?"

"Er, Elizabeth invited me to meet some of the students she knows at the university." He smiled a winning smile that almost had me backing off and giving him some space, until I noticed his leg bouncing up and down in agitation. When I scowled more fiercely at him, he clearly got the message that I was upset. "Look, Susannah…"

"No, Jesse. I get it, it's fine." I hate to admit it, but there was a fair amount of pain in my voice. I scowled again, more at myself in annoyance than at Jesse, but he didn't need to know that. "Please, don't let me stand in the way of your social life. Oh, and that mediator business? Completely unimportant, I get that." I quickly willed myself away from Jesse, over to my window seat, where I sat glaring at him.

"Susannah," Where Jesse's voice had sounded pleasant, albeit a bit squeaky, it now had a dark sexy rumble to it. I shivered unconsciously in response. The man has a sexy voice, even if he is a miserable scum bucket.

Ok, so I don't deal well with competition. Sue me.

"Why are you acting so strange? Yesterday you were practically yelling for me to get out of your room." I felt a wave of colour rise to my cheeks – no mean feat considering I don't _technically_ have blood. He sent a very sexy smirk in my direction, and I warred with the temptation to either smack it off his face, or kiss it off. "Could it be that you have actually _missed_ me, _Querida_?" I felt my heart skip a beat as he said that word, and a knot of tension that had wound itself in between my shoulder blades when he mentioned going out with Elizabeth came undone.

"Miss you? As if." I sent him a playful grin and leaned back against the cool pane of the window. At least – I think it should feel cool. I can't really feel much of anything, haven't since the day I died. "Actually, after you left, I went and investigated some strange vibes from the mysterious beyond." Jesse's playful grin slid off his face, and was replaced by a serious look, one that complemented his dark features superbly. I shook myself mentally in disgust, I was beginning to sound like Debbie Manusco for God's sake. Speaking of…"There was this girl that used to date my brother Brad, Debbie Manusco." I blinked as Jesse gave a start at the name.

"Debbie? It's funny, Elizabeth mentioned that a girl named Debbie disappeared after dating a boy she knows, Tad?" I shook my head, feeling a frown to match Jesse's sitting on my brows. Tad, Tad, Tad … I don't think I'd ever heard of the guy. "She said she thought he was 'creepy'. Does this have anything to do with what you were looking at, _Querida_?" Again with that name! Note to self: steal Brad's Spanish book to figure out what that means.

"Actually, yeah. She came to see father Dom one night, recently, but before she could say anything she just disappeared." Actually, Father Dom described it more like someone yanked her away from him, but I didn't want to let Jesse in on that fact. It sounded a lot like someone had summed Debbie – and from Father D's failed attempts at contact, exorcised her.

Not exactly a pleasant thought for yours truly.

"I'll try to find out as much as I can tonight – see if anyone knows what could possibly cause Debbie to appear now, and not earlier. Did they ever find out why she died?" Jesse began moving about the room, peeling off his shirt while he went in search of a more appropriate one. I gulped nervously as he brushed by me in his undershirt. The man should have a warning label.

"Actually, everyone assumed she'd gone off to L.A., she used to talk about that all the time. Until Father D saw her ghost, we all thought she was alive and well." I chewed my lip as I tried to remember exactly what happened. It was at the beginning of the summer, in July, and Debbie had just broken up with Brad for the 800th time, when she suddenly hooked up with a new guy. It was a little while later that everyone realised they hadn't seen her in a while. "There's a girl named Kelly, her and Debbie are – were best friends. Try and swing your way over to her at the party, if anyone knows something, it'd be her." As long as you can get her to stop talking about her boyfriend, or her hair…

Jesse murmured his assent and began fiddling with his dress shirt. It was a nice wine red, and had a classy-casual look to it when coupled with the 505s. The man was ten kinds of sexy and it was getting harder and harder to ignore it. I watched him fuss about as he got ready for the party, and felt a pang of longing. I never really was the type of girl who got invited to parties – the gang rumours probably had something to do with that – and I wished I had made an attempt to do it when I was alive. Being a ghost seemed to involve a lot of want and not have, especially of late.

"Susannah-" I tilt my head at the strange sound in Jesse's voice, and raise an enquiring eyebrow. He crossed over to me, eyebrows low on his forehead, more serious than I'd ever seen him. He raises a hand to my cheek, and my eyelids flutter closed as I unconsciously lean into it. Hey, I know what you're thinking, but the guy is seriously hot. I'd like to see you keep your mad on against him. "Susannah, I -" he starts up again, and I find myself wishing he'd say something like 'oh Susannah, I love you madly', but I never hear what he actually says.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Because _she's_ here.

* * *

I blinked at the woman who interrupted my conversation with Susannah, simultaneously relieved and annoyed. I don't know what exactly I was going to say, just that the look of abject sadness on her face bothered me, and I felt a strong need to alleviate it. The woman looks… ragged. I remember the stories _mi abuela_ would tell whenever my siblings and I had the urge to run off, La Lorena. Woman in white. She had long red hair that hung in a tangled mass over too thin shoulders, pale skin with dark patches under her eyes. She was screaming louder than anything, and I was cringing from the pitch. For a moment, I wondered why Andy hadn't come running up the stairs, when I realised she had Susannah's arms in a death grip.

"You have to tell him!"

"Uh, Jesse?" Susannah looked over at me with wide eyes, as she unsuccessfully tried to pry the woman's hands from her arms. I shrugged my shoulders. There was really nothing I could do, the woman seemed intent on talking to Susannah, and her alone. Susannah rolled her eyes at me and turned to the woman. "Um, Hi, I'm Susannah." She gave a small grin at the woman, which quickly slid off her face as the woman began screeching again. I covered my ears and winced. The undead certainly get creative when they wish to make themselves heard. This time, my mirror began shaking against the wall, and the lights began flickering on and off. "Whoa! Whoa! Ok, we'll tell him!" The woman stopped screaming and looked at Susannah with such a look of relief, that I wondered what was tormenting the poor soul so much.

"Tell him it wasn't his fault. Tell Red it wasn't his fault." Susannah hastily reaffirmed her promise that 'Red' would get the message; and no sooner were the words out of her mouth, than the woman disappeared. We stood there for a moment, blinking at each other in equal measures of disbelief and confusion.

"Ok, now who the hell is Red?"

* * *

"Red… Red… Doesn't ring any bells…" Elizabeth frowned as she made her way over to the exit. We were driving down past the mission on the way to the party, and I had spent the past few minutes segueing my way to the topic of the mysterious Red. Susannah and I had spent the remaining time at the Ackerman's on David's computer, looking around for any information on our impromptu guest. Our search pulled up nothing, and I had to leave, promising Susannah I'd look into her 'strange vibes' on Debbie Manusco. So far my conversation with Elizabeth wasn't enlightening either. I sighed and looked out the window. I'd only been in Carmel for a short time, and already I was having difficulty balancing my life with my duties as a Mediator. "Wait a minute, yes I do. Red Beaumont, Tad's dad. I didn't really think about him at first, cuz we just call him Mr. B… Why did you want to know, anyway?" Elizabeth shot me a confused glance as we came up to a fenced driveway. It reminded me of the overly ornate entryways to the ranch back home, and a spared a sentimental grin before I focused on what she had said.

"A… friend was asking about him."

"Huh, that's funny. Mr. B's kind of a loner, didn't know the guy had friends, besides Tad's uncle." This brought me up short. How could I keep asking about this Red, if the man was supposedly unsociable? Elizabeth was going to start asking questions that I couldn't answer, without saying 'oh yes, didn't I mention that this friend is a ghost?' I prefer staying on this side of a sanitarium, thank you. "Anyway, if Tad gives me the creeps, Mr. B gives me the major wiggins. I once went over there for super, and the guy didn't touch his food, or wine, all dinner long. And we were having sirloin steak; you just don't pass stuff like that up." Elizabeth gave a mock shudder as we made our way up the long and twisting driveway, the security guard obviously recognizing Elizabeth's vehicle. That, and her comment about dinner, made me wonder if she and Tad had ever been an item, and I was annoyed to find that the thought bothered me.

"Perhaps he wasn't hungry, or was watching his weight." I paused for a second, and then grinned at her. "Wiggins?"

"Shut up. Just because some of us speak like we're born in this century doesn't give you freaks the right to make fun of us." She playfully stuck her tongue out at me, and we both laughed as we pulled up to the house. "Whoa." Elizabeth looked around with wide eyes, and I had to agree with the sentiment. Not only was the house large and ornate, but there could have been twenty or thirty cars on both the driveway and the lawns. We eventually found a place to park the sunfire, and we both just sat there for a moment, taking in the sheer amount of people that must be at this party. I broke out of the stupor first, and made my way around the car in time to open the door for Elizabeth, who accepted my help with a bemused smile. "You know, I am capable of opening the door myself."

"That doesn't mean it isn't nice for me to open it for you." I shot her my trademark smile that sometimes managed to melt even my mother's heart. Elizabeth just chuckled and shook her head, though I was pleased to notice the blush that went across her cheeks. I gallantly offered her my arm as we made our way up to the front door, although Elizabeth was having some trouble with her high heels as we crossed the grass. In a big change from earlier in the day, she was wearing a forest green summer dress, with some black high heels that looked quite painful to walk in. My sister Maria would complain endlessly about the blisters wearing such footwear caused, but without fail she would go out with them on. Women confused me to no end.

"Buffy, DeSilva." Tad was there when we finally reached the door, welcoming everyone in. He gave Elizabeth a long once-over which she clearly ignored and backed off when she clutched my arm tighter. "Welcome to my place. Buffy, Kelly was looking for you, I told her you were showing up with a friend." He said the last word disdainfully, but I found myself not caring. This Kelly was the girl Susannah had been talking about, and now I had a perfect opportunity to talk to her about Debbie.

"Hey Tad, thanks. We'll catch you later, ok?" She gave him a big false grin and practically dragged me into the house and towards the swimming pool. There was a large bar area set up, and people were ordering all sorts of drinks, though clearly most of them were under the drinking age. We made our way over to said bar, and Elizabeth swiftly ordered coke for the both of us, before turning to look around the pool deck. "Man, he seriously outdid himself this time; I don't even know some of these people. Man, don't you just wish you had a place like this?" She elbowed me jokingly, and I tamped down the impulse to tell her about my actual home, which was around this size. We chatted for a few minutes as the bartender got us our drinks, and then we moved out into the crowd. "I wonder why Kelly's suddenly so interested; I haven't spoken with her in a while."

"Maybe she found out something about your friend Debbie." We made our way over to a pair in the center of the pool deck. The girl had long blonde hair and was dressed in an outfit I guess was fairly expensive and stylish, while her date was talking to what looked to be ex-football players.

"Buffy! Hey!" The girl, who I presumed to be Kelly, squealed at an unnatural pitch and put her arms around Elizabeth, who had to bend down slightly to make up for the height difference. She looked over at me, and I grew uncomfortable at the strange gleam in her eyes as she looked me up and down. "So, who's your friend?" she too gave a strange emphasis to that word, and it was starting to annoy me.

"Jesse," I extended my hand as Elizabeth introduced me and gave her a polite smile. She gripped my hand tightly and gave me a grin in return. Elizabeth's grip on my arm tightened a little and she continued in what sounded like a strangled tone. "He's staying with the Ackerman's." I was preparing myself mentally for a long conversation with Kelly, when her date suddenly whipped around. He glared at me, with two ice blue eyes, settled into what I suppose is a handsome face framed by curly dark hair. As he looked at my face, I felt a wave of loathing and hatred wash over, such as I had never felt in my life.

"DeSilva." His voice, which made the hairs on the back of my neck rise in disgust, pulled Elizabeth's attention over to us with its tone of malevolence. She shot the two of us a questioning glance, when a name suddenly popped into my head. I felt my hands balling up into fists, tight enough to crush the glass of coke I had held in my hands, as I growled his name.

"Slater."

* * *

A/N: Well, there you go folks! Mr. Paul Slater has officially stepped into our story. I hit a point with this chapter where I couldn't type for weeks, and suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to just WRITE. I know it isn't the best chapter ever, but it leads into the more exciting parts of the story, where the plot will hopefully inspire me to write more. Let me know what you think!

**Reviews:**

**The Salad is Dressing**: Answer your question? Ha ha, I'm not sure if I like Elizabeth yet either – but she does have an important part to play, something that's going to shock a lot of people, well, at least so I think.

**Amattsonperdue**: That'll be answered in later chapters, but because it's so far away, I'll give a rather small teaser; She's not actually related to Father Dom, and the rest, you'll have to wait on. D

**Annabella Darcy**: This non-liking of Elizabeth seems to be popular… whoops. Well, she doesn't have to be liked, just serve her purpose. Or no cookies for her. Heh heh.

And plenty of hugs and cuddles to these wonderful folks: **Lessien-Elensar**, **Bloody Vampyre Mistress**, **LunaTears**, **yauvanika**, and **Kates Master**!


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